


I'm No Moral Foe

by jannika



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jannika/pseuds/jannika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Zayn is new in school and he doesn't need Louis, honestly he doesn't. It's just that he might want him, and he's not sure if that's actually any better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm No Moral Foe

**Author's Note:**

> Because I basically write Louis/Zayn all the time but it's always backstory, and I wanted to write something that was just theirs. Although, please feel free to interpret the end however you want. ~~I would never mean to imply the possibility of future polyamory. Nope. Because Ot5 is not a thing I enjoy.~~ As always, for [](http://folkloric-feel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://folkloric-feel.livejournal.com/)**folkloric_feel** who is the Liam to my Zayn and my very favorite girl.

It's been an awful week, just really fucking awful, and as far as Zayn can tell it's only going to get worse from here. It's Wednesday at lunch, two and half days into his life at a new school, two and a half days of getting lost, getting glares, and being completely miserable. He's standing against the back wall, smoking the last cigarette from the pack he'd gotten on Monday. It has to be the fastest he's ever gone through a pack, and leaning against the wall and glaring out at all the faces he can't name, he decides he blames all of them. He's just tired, he's tired and he's angry and he's restless and he's running through cigarettes and he's pretty sure that fourteen is entirely too young for this sort of thing, but whatever. It's this place, these dingy halls and these awful people and having to start over. Not that he was some sort of life of the party before or anything, but this is just. Shit. This is just shit.

He closes his eyes and tries to make his last cigarette last as long as possible, taking long drags and ignoring the school yard. Or trying to, anyway, because when he's about a third of the way through a loud voice coming way from way too far into his personal space interrupts him.

"Hey," the voice says, and Zayn looks up and glares at a kid who only about a step away.

"Yes?" Zayn says, not bothering to make eye contact.

"Let me have one of those, yeah?" the kid says, and he's stepped further into Zayn's space and his voice is on the border of threatening and he smells like gym class and it all makes Zayn's skin crawl.

"No," Zayn says, because, seriously, even if he had another one, or another pack or ten more packs, fuck this kid.

"Why the hell not?" the kid says, and he pokes Zayn's shoulder as he does in a way Zayn thinks is supposed to be intimidating. Zayn looks up and sizes the kid up- he's got dusty blonde hair and an angry face, but he's not much bigger than Zayn is. Zayn shrugs and takes another slow drag, puffing the air into the kid's face on purpose.

"No," Zayn repeats. The kid pulls this sort of ridiculous face, like he's trying to work up the best possible insult. _Try me._ Zayn thinks.

"Fucking just give me one," the kid says, biting his lip and way into Zayn's space, poking him again and mouth still open, like he has more to say. Zayn waits, but the next words spoken aren't from either of them.

"Bothering new kids, Ted? Don't you have anything better to do?" a new voice says. Zayn looks up to see a guy he thinks he's noticed in passing in the halls, he's got brown hair and the annoyed line of his lips doesn't match the amused look in his eyes. Zayn sighs. He just wanted to smoke in peace.

"Fuck off, Tomlinson, it's not my fault he won't share," the kid says, glaring at the guy walking towards them.

"And it won't be my fault if coach happens to hear you were smoking. Aren't you already on probation for that fight last week?" the new guy says. The kid in Zayn's face takes a step back and glares at the new guy, Tomlinson, apparently, and then shakes his head and starts to walk off.

"I voted against you for captain, you know," the kid says, walking away.

"You wound me," Tomlinson who is the captain of something with a coach who doesn't like smoking, maybe, says.

"I can take care of myself," Zayn says, finishing his cigarette and stomping it out with his foot.

"Didn't say you couldn't. But I hate Ted and I like to mess with him, plus I don't want you to think we're all dicks around here. I'm Louis, by the way," he says, extending a hand. Zayn stares at him for a minute, then sighs again and reaches out to shake the guy's hand.

"Zayn," he says, and like, he doesn't need some guy fighting his fights for him and he doesn't want pity or whatever, but this Louis guy is he first person who has been friendly to him in days, so he knows he shouldn't just blow him off, either.

"I've seen you around. You just started on Monday, right?" Louis says.

"Yeah," Zayn says.

"Where're you from?" Louis asks.

"Bradford," Zayn says, dropping Louis' hand and shoving both his hands in his pockets. Louis raises an eyebrow.

"You like it here?" Louis asks.

"Not really," Zayn says.

"Right. Well, did you want to come sit with me?" Louis asks.

"I can take care of myself," Zayn repeats, because he can and because Louis is giving him this look like he's already decided they should friends. He shoves off the wall anyway, though, and he walks toward Louis.

"We're not all dicks," Louis says, slinging an arm around Zayn's shoulder and guiding him toward what must be his table.

"Sure," Zayn says. Louis grins.

"So thanks for inviting me to have lunch with you," Louis says. Zayn blinks, "Sure, it was no problem. Welcome to the school," Louis continues, "'So what is it you're the captain of?' 'Oh, just the local football club, did you want to join up?' 'Why yes, I'd love to!' Great talk there, Zayn. Great talk," Louis says, sliding into a table already occupied by a couple of guys who all nod and look at Zayn curiously. Zayn scowls.

"What?" Zayn asks, sitting down when Louis tugs on his arm.

"So you'll come try out, then? It's not really a tryout as we're always short, and I could get Ted kicked off if you want his spot, but you know, formalities," Louis says.

"Are you joining up? I don't know you! I'm Niall," a blonde guy says, reaching across the table to shake Zayn's hand.

"What?" Zayn says again, reaching out to shake Niall's hand even though he isn't sure he should.

"They're on Wednesday, typically," Louis says.

"You want me on your team?" Zayn asks, trying to process.

"Well, yeah. You're new in town, you'll need something to do with all those free afternoons," Louis says, grinning at him.

"We're terrible, but the parties when we lose are always epic," Niall says.

"I don't need you to fill my afternoons for me," Zayn says.

"So you're busy? It doesn't have to be Wednesday," Louis says.

"I don't really do that," Zayn says. Louis rolls his eyes and passes Zayn half a sandwich. And Zayn doesn't need that, either, he has his own food and his own life and he can take care of himself and who the fuck is this guy?

"What do you do, then?" Niall asks.

"You don't have two nights a week and a few Saturdays a month?" Louis asks.

"I smoke," Zayn says.

"In all your spare time?" Niall asks.

"I saw that," Louis says.

"But, you said you'd tell the coach," Zayn says, and it's sort of a weak excuse and he knows it, but he has no idea how to actually argue with any of this.

"Because I hate Ted, and I overheard the coach lay it out as a condition last week when he was putting him probation, trying to get him to clean up his act or some shit," Louis says. Zayn frowns.

"Yeah, fuck Ted," Niall says.

"I'll get him kicked off if that's the issue," Louis says.

"What if I just don’t want to?" Zayn asks.

"Then I'll have to convince you," Louis says, slinging his arm around Zayn again and grinning.

***

As it turns out, it doesn't really matter whether he actually joins the team at all. A week later he finds himself sitting in the stands. He's scowling and sketching and he's itching for a smoke, but he's there, watching people kick a ball around. He has no idea why, honestly. He's not sure why he didn't just get up from the lunch table that first Wednesday and never talk to these people again. He thinks it might be because they're still the only people who are talking to him, or maybe because the jam on Louis' half a sandwich is always the good kind and always more appealing than his own lunch, or maybe it's that Louis hasn’t really given him much choice in the matter at all. For a kid he'd only seen in passing until that day, Louis is suddenly everywhere Zayn turns, smack in the middle of his life and apparently with no intention of leaving.

So he still hasn't agreed to like, play, because fuck that still, and because that Ted kid is shooting him dirty looks just for sitting there and Zayn has no intention of like, getting mud covered because some jerk trips him, but he is here, which seems to be good enough for Louis, at least for now. Niall has inserted himself into Zayn's life too, not as much as Louis, but he's still always around too, and it's just. It's whatever, because Zayn still hates it here and he still doesn't need this. But he's here.

"Did you see that?" Louis asks, sprinting up to him and leaning over the rails by where Zayn is sitting.

"See what?" Zayn asks. Louis sighs, but fondly, like they've know each other for a lot longer than a week.

"The shot I just made? I kicked it right at Ted's head, just for you," Louis says.

"Thanks?" Zayn offers. Louis grins. His hair is all disheveled and his t-shirt is covered in grass stains but it's like. Louis is like. Zayn doesn’t know, but he bites the inside of his cheek and shades in careful lines in his sketchbook, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes.

"You should pay more attention," Louis says.

"I'll try?"

"Really?" Louis asks.

"Maybe," Zayn says, a smirk on his lips.

"If I can't get you to join, you should at least watch," Louis says, which is a completely illogical argument because they have known each other for a week and Zayn is pretty sure he's under no obligation to do anything at all here. Still, Louis is leaning in even closer and even all grass-stain-covered and sweaty, he smells sort of good, and like, if not for this Zayn would just be sitting home alone. Not that he minds being alone, but. This isn't awful. It's actually, well. Whatever it is, it's enough that Zayn says,

"I'll try," before he can stop himself.

"I'll play even better then," Louis says, then he jogs off, back toward the pitch, yelling things to teammates. Zayn is pretty sure he would hate all of them. But he very much doesn't hate Louis.

***

The week after that, Louis starts walking to school with Zayn, and like, Zayn doesn't remember telling Louis where he lived or anything and maybe that's like, stalking and he should be worried, but he already feels like it's just sort of. Louis.

"I can find school all by myself, you know. I don't need you to walk me," Zayn attempts. Louis just shakes his head and shows up every morning anyway. Louis fills the walk with stories and questions he doesn't seem to care if Zayn answers or not.

Somewhere along the way, as the air turns colder, after football season ends, Louis starts walking Zayn home from school too, and Zayn starts actually answering questions, and Louis starts packing two sandwiches because it's winter and they're hungry, and Zayn's never really had someone this close before, but it happens almost before he notices.

And it's like, suddenly when things happen during the day, instead of just rolling his eyes or thinking that he sort of hates everyone, he thinks of the way he's going to tell this story to Louis. And it's like, sometimes he shares a smoke with Louis, because they don’t feel like going home just yet so they stop at the park and sit on the double racing slides and take long puffs, the smoke mingling with the their frozen breaths. And Louis says,

"You can never tell anyone," and Zayn says,

"Because I'm always chatting with people who aren't you," Zayn says.

"Niall? Sometimes Stan?" Louis suggests, grinning over at Zayn from his slide.

"I think they already know," Zayn says. Louis shakes his head, shivering a little in his coat as he does.

"But if like, if I did tell you something, if there was something, there could be something that only you and me knew, right?" Louis asks.

"Of course," Zayn says. Louis nods, unusually serious for a second before smiling again.

 

***

In the summer, Zayn lets Louis write on him, marker strokes against his skin while they're sitting on Zayn's roof, because they're fifteen and because football tryouts aren't for weeks and because maybe Zayn would let Louis do a lot of things. Maybe.

"Can I do it?" Louis asks, reaching out pluck the marker Zayn's been using on his shoes out of his hand and grinning.

"Do what?" Zayn asks.

"Draw something," Louis says.

"Can you?" Zayn asks, eyebrows raised. Louis smirks,

"I can try," Louis says, and then he grabs for Zayn's arm.

"Um," Zayn says.

"Like you don't write on yourself all the time," Louis says, scrawling random loops and spirals on Zayn's arm.

"It's art when I do it," Zayn says. Louis shakes his head, turning his loops into his own name as he does.

"Everything I do is art," Louis says.

"How am I going to explain to people why your name is on my arm?" Zayn asks.

"What people?" Louis asks, putting the cap back on the marker and tossing it on Zayn's lap.

"My family?" Zayn suggests.

"So shower when I leave," Louis says. Zayn rolls his eyes, but then he smirks and picks the marker up.

"My turn?" Zayn says, and he grabs Louis' arm and makes a careful Z, smiling. Louis just watches him the whole time, eyes thoughtful, and when Zayn's done and goes to pull his hand back, Louis stops him, stilling Zayn's hand, just for a minute.

"Zayn?" he says.

"Lou?" Zayn says. Their eyes lock and Louis bites his lip and the air sort of stills, but then Louis says,

"You are coming to my tryouts, right?"

***

Zayn does, actually, go to tryouts. Niall has convinced him he won't really have to play and he sort of likes Stan and Ted has joined some other club and he decidedly doesn't hate most of the rest of them. And it's Louis' team. So Zayn stands there in fucking shorts and it's muddy and it smells and it's still not really his idea of fun, but Louis keeps beaming at him like he's made a really good life choice.

The problem turns out to not be the mud or the sweat or people being shits or not having time to draw or anything Zayn thought the problem might be. The problem turns out to be so much worse than that.

Because being part of this, with the practices and the running and the still sticky summer weather is like, a lot of boys without shirts and lot of boys getting rained on and a lot of Louis' hair sticking to his face and his cheeks flushing that way that they do and it's like, changing in closed small rooms after practice and before matches and skin, so fucking much skin everywhere and like, tackles and hugs and hands and touching and shit.

And dammit, Zayn is so fucked because he's never really. He's certainly found himself staring at boys before this, and whatever, there are like, porn videos he's clicked for the man in them not the girl, and like, sometimes he's found himself sketching male torsos and thighs, but it was never an actual thing till this. He didn't know the thing he had about other boys was like, this much of a thing until now.

Apparently it's very much a thing and he's just so fucked here, because he has no idea what to do with any of it at all.

***

One morning Louis shows up his door looking really pleased with himself, and Zayn groans a little but says,

"Morning?"

"I got you something!" Louis announces.

"It's not my birthday," Zayn says.

"It's present from Louis day," Louis says.

"Louis," Zayn says. Louis beams and reaches into his pockets and pulls out an envelope and presents it to Zayn.

"Open it!" Louis enthuses. The season has actually been going really well, even if Zayn still doesn't play much, even if Zayn still spends most of his time trying not to stare at the rest of the team. It's put Louis in a good mood lately, which means that even if it makes Zayn's head spin a little, he's glad to be part of something that makes Louis this happy.

"Fine," Zayn says.

"Always so grateful," Louis says. Zayn rolls his eyes and opens the envelope,

"A fake ID?" Zayn asks.

"You're welcome!" Louis says, rolling on the balls of his feet.

"Seriously?" Zayn asks.

"I got one for myself too, of course," Louis says.

"Of course," Zayn says.

"I thought first thing we'd do was go get you a real tattoo, so you could stop drawing on yourself all the time," Louis says.

"You draw on me!" Zayn says.

"Well, we wouldn't stop that," Louis says, grinning and reaching out as they walk to run a hand over the place on Zayn's forearm where they'd spent all of lunch yesterday writing the word ' _zap_ ' in the most elaborate ways they could. Zayn pulls his arm away, just a little. Sometimes it's all just. So much. Too much. Louis and the team and Louis again, and drawing and long talks and short talks and inside jokes that have words to go with them that send them both into hysterics when the other one mentions. And Louis is like, he's so much and sometimes Zayn just can't.

"I don't need you to do things like this," Zayn says, because. It's so much.

"As always, I never said you did," Louis says back, shaking his head, "I just wanted us to have a little fun."

"Watching me get a tattoo would be fun for you?" Zayn asks.

"I thought we'd get a drink or two after," Louis says.

"A drink or two?" Zayn echoes.

"We're only young once," Louis says. Zayn thinks he should probably point out the fact that there is something terribly ironic about the mix of fake IDs to things they're not old enough to have being something they should do while they're young. He doesn't, of course, because his brain is too full of other thoughts about drinking and Louis and drinking with Louis and the way Louis' eyes are dancing today.

"Sure," Zayn says.

"We'll buy something and sneak into my room and get wasted, and do whatever it is you do with new tattoos," Louis says.

"I think this is peer pressure," Zayn says. Louis laughs.

"You adore me," Louis says. Zayn bites his lip and doesn't say anything at all.

***

 

They don’t like, make the division finals or anything, but it's a good run and they all get drunk after and Louis makes Zayn sing karaoke with him after a few drinks and they sing every pop song the machine has, until their voices are horse and they're hanging on each other, laughing and light.

That night Louis is like, full of light and Zayn just. It's like, he doesn't need sandwiches even if they are really good and he doesn't need someone to make him his own fake IDs and he doesn't need football, and he doesn't _need_ Louis, but maybe he just wants him. He's not sure if that's better or worse.

***

A few weeks after that Zayn uses his fake ID to sneak into a bar, a night that Louis has some family thing so he can be alone. He spends the days before like, looking things up on the internet and he finds a bar for. Answers, he hopes.

He sits on a barstool and he sips a drink slowly and he glances around the room and when a tall red headed guy approaches him and asks him to dance, Zayn nods. He dances and lets the guy buy him more drinks and they make out in a bathroom stall and Zayn tries his fucking hardest not to think about Louis this whole time.

He backs away when he feels a hand on his zipper, he makes awkward excuses and he leaves, practically running. He wants. He wants it so much that it terrifies him.

 

***

In late winter, after two tattoos and several drunken nights, something goes wrong. Zayn doesn't see Louis for two days and it's harder than Zayn would have thought and he doesn't know what to do. He's not going to like, send a million texts or stand outside Louis' house or ask around about him, but like, he misses him.

When Louis shows up, he's missing some of his light and he flops on Zayn's bed and he stares at the ceiling and says,

"I fucked something up, Zayn."

"What's going on?" Zayn asks. Louis sighs and pulls the edge of Zayn's comforter over his face and groans into it. In a year and a half, in a thousand conversations, he's not sure he's ever seen Louis quite like this.

"It's a sad story," Louis says. Zayn pulls the comforter off of Louis face.

"Okay," Zayn says. Louis bites his hips and looks up at Zayn,

"There, I might have not told you something," Louis says.

"Tell me now?" Zayn offers.

"I'm sorry," Louis says. Zayn grabs for Louis' hand and shakes his head.

"For what?" Zayn says.

"I told you I'd tell you, last year, and I never did," Louis says. Zayn's mind swims and he tries to figure that one out and he thinks he might. He might get it. He thinks that actually might make all of this worse. Louis looks so miserable, though, so fucking miserable and like, it's sort of killing Zayn.

"There are things I haven't told you too," Zayn admits. Louis stares at him.

"I'm sure your secrets are less pathetic than mine," Louis says.

"I'm sure they're worse," Zayn says. Louis shakes his head.

"I fucked up," Louis says again.

"Isn't that like, the teenager way?" Zayn asks.

"Tell me your thing first?" Louis asks.

"I can't," Zayn says.

"You can't?" Louis repeats, biting his lip. Zayn sighs and lays down so he's facing Louis and their foreheads are touching.

"I, I'm scared of my thing," Zayn says. Louis raises an eyebrow, and there is, maybe, his eyes sort of ghost to Zayn's lips at that. Zayn shivers.

"I'm scared of my thing too," Louis admits.

"It's just me," Zayn says.

"I could say the same to you," Louis says.

"Yeah," Zayn says. Louis reaches out a hand at that, fingers tracing over Zayn's cheek.

"Zayn?" he asks.

"Yeah?" Zayn asks.

"Are we afraid of the same thing here?" Louis asks, and like. He could actually mean so many things by that, and Zayn has no idea which one Louis means, but he gets the idea.

"Probably," Zayn says.

"Did you want to, maybe, skip telling each other how we fucked up and like, be scared together?" Louis asks, scooting even closer to Zayn.

"How do you mean?" Zayn asks, even thought he's pretty sure he gets it. He moves too, squirming closer to Louis and ignoring the parts of his mind that are yelling that this is dangerous because he's pretty sure Louis is talking in general concepts and not about them or anything.

"We don't, we can tell each other some other time, and for now we could just," Louis stops and leans the rest of the way into Zayn's space and their lips brush just for a second before Louis pulls back and says, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Zayn says, and it doesn't begin to cover the thoughts in his head, but does make Louis lean back down and kiss him again. And again, and again until they've rolled over and they're pressing into each other and everything is hands and skin and Louis.

***

They don't talk about it after that, but they do keep kissing, and their hands do keep finding their way all over each other, zippers undone and groans bitten back, more and more often as the school year winds on. It's strange because for awhile it doesn't actually change anything, it's all just like, sneaking off to make out in the bathroom and then Louis making Zayn audition for the musical. They pull each other's pants down in dressing rooms and then go to cast parties. They show up late to lunch with shirts re-buttoned wrong and Niall is there talking about playing his guitar for them and did the three of them want to sing at some party. They lick every inch of each other they can find and then sit on the roof and smoke and Zayn draws and Louis talks about football and music and it's just like. Them.

For so long it it's just this, like, extra part of what they were already doing. It's just more Louis, and so Zayn can tell himself that he still just. Wants and enjoys, that it's not like his entire fucking life has become wrapped up in Louis or anything. It's football season again when they have to talk about something, when they're sort of forced to, because the captain of another club looks at them and seems to see right through them and says,

"I'm glad you found someone," to Louis, in a low voice. Louis turns deep red and shakes his head and doesn't say anything until later. He waits until they're lying in Zayn's bed and they're not wearing much and he's running his fingers' over a new tattoo on Zayn before he says,

"I saw him out running one day last year, and his shirt was like, he was wearing this shirt about- some gay youth gathering, and I recognized him and so like, we started talking."

"Okay," Zayn says.

"And we talked for awhile and then we like, met for coffee a few times and then," Louis stops.

"And then?"

"And then I tried to kiss him and he told me he had a boyfriend and looked at me like I was the most massive fucking idiot kid in the world," Louis says.

"Lou," Zayn says, pulling him in closer, his heart kind of swelling at that.

"Which I was, so I suppose I deserved that," Louis says.

"Is that your story, your fuck up story?" Zayn asks.

"I told you it was pathetic," Louis says, burying his face in Zayn's shoulder.

"It's not," Zayn says.

"Do I get yours now? Is it sharing night?" Louis asks. Zayn sighs, but he says,

"I went to a bar, like, that kind of bar, and there was this guy, and like. He bought me drinks and we made out in the bathroom," Zayn finishes. Louis looks up and raises his eyebrows,

"You used the fake ID I got you to get some?" Louis asks.

"Sort of," Zayn says.

"I'm so proud," Louis says, and then he kisses Zayn, one of those slow affectionate kisses that might actually be Zayn's favorite.

It's not really much sharing, there are still so many things they've never said, but they don't need to, not tonight, Zayn is pretty sure.

***

"Zayn?" Louis says one night months later, his pupils are still expanding and contracting rapidly and Zayn can feel how fast his heart is racing.

"Yeah?" Zayn says.

"How long has this been now?" Louis asks. Zayn stills the hand that hand that been tracing over Louis' chest.

"You don't remember?" Zayn asks.

"No, I meant like, it's been longer than it's actually been, right?" Louis asks. Zayn bites his lip,

"Right," he confirms.

"But like, altogether it's been, like, so long that we're some sort of old married couple or something, yeah?" Louis says.

"Proposing?" Zayn says, trying to keep it light because he has no idea what Louis is actually getting at here.

"Fuck you, I just meant like, after exams and stuff and for uni," Louis says.

"What about it?" Zayn asks.

"I was just thinking, we could like, get a flat, when we're in school," Louis says.

"You and me?" Zayn asks.

"Yes," Louis says. Zayn beams and feels weirdly like that sort of is a proposal, but then he pauses because he still doesn't really know what Louis means. This is like, this how it's been, how Louis says these vague things that could just mean they have a deeper friendship than most people or something, that they've always been like this, and Zayn doesn't. He doesn't like, need Louis to be his boyfriend or promise to always be there or anything like that, he doesn't need any of it, but he wants something else here.

"How long do you think it's been?" Zayn asks. Louis frowns at him.

"What?"

"I, did you always know that like, me too?" Zayn asks, and as he says it he realizes he doesn't even know how long Louis has known about himself and he thinks that smarter people would have talked this all through a long time ago.

"I don't know? I mean, I guess now that I do know I must have always, because I did always think, but then I'd tell myself I just wanted you to be," Louis says.

"Why?" Zayn asks.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you want me to be?" Zayn asks, and it's probably the boldest thing he'll ever ask Louis, but he thinks that on a night that Louis suggested they move in together, it's a fair question.

"At first because I was tired of being alone, feeling like it was just me, but then, I wanted to think I had a chance," Louis says.

"Oh," Zayn says.

"Yeah," Louis says.

"You always did, I mean, I always wanted to," Zayn says, and then he adds, "you."

"Scared of exactly the same thing, then?" Louis asks.

"I guess," Zayn says. Louis grins and kisses Zayn again, linking their hands together.

"So you'll move in with me? Get a flat? And I know this is where you say you don't need me to find you a place to live or whatever, but I don't want to live with anyone but you," Louis says. His grip on Zayn's hand is tight, and for the very first time something hits Zayn. He's spent so much time telling himself he didn't need Louis, so much time worrying about what it would mean if he did, that he's missed it, but the way Louis is looking at him now, the way he's talking about them living together, he sees it. Louis needs him. It's a sudden and blindingly obvious revelation and it takes Zayn completely off guard. Louis' eyes look so big and vulnerable, like he actually thinks Zayn might tell him no, and like he _needs_ Zayn not to.

"No," Zayn says.

"You won't get a place with me?" Louis asks, looking crushed. Zayn shakes his head.

"Of course I will, I meant, I do need you to do this, I need you to be Louis. For me," Zayn says, because if Louis feels it too, then he thinks they might just be okay after all.

"You need me for everything!" Louis says, smirking. But then he grips Zayn even tighter and whispers soft and serious, "it's mutual."  
"Good," Zayn says.

"So I was thinking, once we have our flat and all, we should like, drive in one day and audition," Louis says.

"Audition?" Zayn asks.

"X-Factor," Louis says, "I think Niall wants to do it too, and he could meet us and we'll just like, see what happens."

"You want us to audition for X-Factor?" Zayn asks.

"Your mom thought it was a brilliant idea when I mentioned it to her earlier," Louis says, grinning, "we want the world to hear that pretty voice of yours."

"You want us to be flatmates who audition for X-Factor?"

"And have loads of sex," Louis says.

"You're serious about this?" Zayn asks.

"It can't hurt to try, and I promise we'll still have time to study and get drunk and get you tattoos and let you stare off into space and draw for hours like you do, and I'll still play football," Louis says.

"And the loads of sex?" Zayn asks.

"Obviously," Louis says.

"Sure," Zayn says. Louis beams at him again.

"You never know, it could be amazing," Louis says. And like, Zayn seriously doubts that they're the sort of people that things like that happen for, but then again, in the last few years a lot of things he would have seriously doubted in the past have happened. So maybe he's a poor judge.

"It has to happen to somebody," Zayn says. Louis pulls him in close to kiss him again,

"It does," he says.

Maybe Zayn just likes the idea of one more shared experience tying them together, but part a small hopeful part of him is out-yelling his doubts and making him think it's a really good idea. Really, even things that have started out seeming like bad ideas have ended up turning out fairly excellent when Louis' involved. And besides, auditioning for a reality show can't be worse than football tryouts. So Zayn says,

"It could be us."

He thinks that them is already so many things, that their us is so big already, that maybe adding more will just make it better. He knows it will.


End file.
